By the time I get home, my hands are swollen and covered in rashes. I have been itching my arm all the way home, but I do not care. This is what I wanted – a little pain, a bit of discomfort, something to remind me not to fall for someone so easily. As I open the door, I see Mom asleep on the couch with her feet propped up on a pillow. Her ankle is swollen from all the walking and long hours she puts in at work.

I move quietly, careful not to make a sound, and check the calendar in the kitchen. She is on the night shift today, which is a relief. I will text her later and send a picture. Tomorrow, when she is home, I will have to play our usual game of hide and seek – awake when she is sleeping and asleep when she is awake.

I grab a quick dinner and head straight to my room. Curling up under my blanket, I pull out the book I borrowed from the library – Conan. I love books, and once I start one, I cannot stop until I finish it. I usually stick to my textbooks and rarely bring home storybooks, but when I do, I get completely lost in them, and time slips away. That is exactly what happened today.

Seconds melt into minutes, and minutes stretch into hours. I raise my head from the book only when I hear footsteps downstairs. I glance at the clock above my desk. It is eight. As soon as I hear Mom coming up the stairs, I switch off the lamp and pull the blanket over my head. The door creaks open slightly, and I can hear her heavy breathing from the climb. After a few seconds, she leaves, closing the door softly behind her. I wait until I hear her go back downstairs before turning the light on again.

By nine-thirty, she leaves for work. When I hear the front door close, I finally relax. I head downstairs, grab a bag of chips, and read while eating. By the time I finish the book, it is well past midnight. My arms are now covered in tiny blisters. I take a picture and send it to Mom.

“I think I touched something by accident,” I text.

“Oh, my goodness, Scarlet, did you go through the ivy path?” she replies.

“No,” I lie.

“Then where did you get it?”

“No idea,” I type back.

“Do not lie, Scarlet. I have told you a hundred times not to wander in the woods, but you never listen.”

“I am fine. It is nothing serious. Maybe I will skip school tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to come home?” she asks.

“For what?” I shoot back.

“To take you to the hospital or something.”

“No, I am fine. I washed it and put on calamine lotion. It is better now.”

“Call me if you need me. Love you,” she says.

I do not reply with love you, too. I do not even bother with an okay. Not even an emoji to show I read it.

The only person who truly loves me in this world is my mom. Her love is real and honest, and that never changes, unlike Oliver and his fake love. I know she works double shifts just for me, but no matter how much I want to, I cannot love her back in the same way. I wish I could be a better person. I wish I could appreciate her more. I wish I had the heart to help her, to take some of her burdens away. But I don’t. All I feel is frustration for not having the life I wanted – a life with both my parents under the same roof, a life with siblings. I have a dad and a sister somewhere out there, but I have no idea where they are. Mom never answers any questions about them. My anger feels justified sometimes. Maybe she deserves it, but then again, who knows what she is going through?